Miok’s forehead creased and eyes narrowed at the digital image before her. She folded her arms tightly across her breast, tilting her head back with a look of skepticism. "What kind of statement is this nitwit making?" she asked in a voice laced with sharp, unvarnished disdain.

A sudden burst of laughter spilled from Miok, deep and unrestrained, cutting cleanly through the quiet room. "If you're looking for clear logic or rhetorical consistency, forget about it!" She grinned, waving a dismissive hand toward the display as if sweeping away the very concept of reason. "When instinct takes over, rationality goes straight out the window. Honestly, you can probably forget about most art while you're at it!"

Beside Miok, Chris shifted his weight from one foot to the other, tugging at his collar as though the room had grown warmer. His eyes darted — artwork, Miok, the heads beginning to turn their way, artwork again. "Ahh..." he started in a voice trailing off into a hesitant beat before he found his footing. "Why are we even having this conversation? Can't we just look at the image, and move on?"

Miok turned her gaze from the screen to Chris, her grin widening as she caught the nervous sweat glistening on his forehead.

"Move on?" she echoed, tapping a fingernail rhythmically against her elbow. "Where’s the fun in moving on, Chris? Art isn't meant to be swallowed like a pill—it's meant to be chewed." She gestured grandly to the curious onlookers now tuning into her impromptu lecture. "Besides, look around. We're the only ones in this room who are actually awake."

Chris sighed, lowering his head as a quiet murmur rippled through the gathering crowd. He took a subtle step back, already plotting his escape toward the museum exit.